Shattered Silence: The Untold Story of a Serial Killer's Daughter by Melissa G. Moore & M. Bridget Cook-Burch

Author:Melissa G. Moore & M. Bridget Cook-Burch [Moore, Melissa G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781599557397
Publisher: Cedar Fort, Inc.
Published: 2015-09-08T07:00:00+00:00

21: MYSTIFIED AND BEWILDERED

In the last eighteen months, my body had changed dramatically, and so had most of my classmates’ bodies. Since I was a year older than most of them, I had developed earlier, and that had often felt awkward to me. In addition, teen television, movies, and music videos all seemed to push the glory of sex. It was the topic of endless, whispered discussions at school. I listened, but I often felt stupid, like I was the only one who didn’t know anything. And also the one who knew way too much.

At home it was the same, especially because I had two critically divergent messages taught to me by my parents concerning sexuality. My mother had grown up in the Catholic religion and strongly believed that sex was for marriage and marriage only, to the point that she wouldn’t answer any questions or discuss anything else about it. My father, however, who was raised without religion, would always ridicule my mother for her beliefs. By this time, he had grown to care less and less about what anyone else thought, and his behavior and his words spoke volumes about his developing belief system and where he was coming from.

“Don’t listen to your mom’s prudish ways,” Dad told me. “That’s why we’re not together anymore. She wouldn’t . . . ” and I would tune him out. “If it feels good, do it,” he said over and over.

But I had completely drowned it out. I couldn’t stand to listen to him talk about my mother like that. It was hard enough that I struggled because I couldn’t talk to her, couldn’t get her to open up and talk to me about anything real or intimate. She commented on the weather, school schedules, or superficial happenings at her work, but that was about it. Most of the time, she lived in her own little world, and my tentative questions made her turn cold, change the subject, or walk away.

Since my father was more open about discussing sex, I would sometimes turn to him for the answers. Within only a few seconds of asking him a question, however, I would get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. My father talked openly about sexuality, but completely without reverence, respect, or dignity—for himself or anyone of the opposite sex. I had learned early not to repeat to my friends the things my father told me. He spit out body parts and functions as effortlessly as ordering a hamburger and fries. I couldn’t carry on a conversation that way, and I didn’t share his views on the topic, so I stopped asking him questions as well.

A natural shyness developed within me when it came to this mysterious topic of sexuality. I remained curious, but I felt so bewildered and uncomfortable with the little knowledge I had. Surely there was something more natural and healthy than what both my parents thought? I knew there must be people who saw sex not as bad, sick, and wrong, but genuinely beautiful.

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